


No Two Scars

by Chamomile



Series: Untold Tales From the Storm - 2017-2018 [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 17:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chamomile/pseuds/Chamomile
Summary: Never in her twenty-eight summers did Kan-E believe she would be on the front lines of battle. (Stormblood spoilers. Originally written as a mock installment of 'Tales from the Storm' for FFXIV's 4th anniversary. Slight hints of Kan-E/Merlwyb.)





	No Two Scars

Never in her twenty-eight summers did Kan-E believe she would be on the front lines of battle.

She had witnessed countless conflicts in her role as commander of the Eorzean Alliance…countless men and women, Gridanians and non-Gridanians alike, dying in her name. In a strange twist of fate, the Padjal found herself in the war-torn streets of Ala Mhigo, a new, unfamiliar tension gripping the air around her. Hanging onto her Claustrum for dear life, she hid her inner turmoil under a calm façade, easing the worries of the soldiers tasked with protecting her. Emotions were key—not only as a leader in battle, but in white magic, as well…she had been taught since childhood to keep her innermost worries buried, to instead channel what positive energies she could muster to heal the wounded and provide succor to those that needed it.

An eerie silence grew in the center of the tumultuous city, where she and her soldiers had been tasked to protect. The Garleans who faced them had been defeated, one by one…some, even by her own hand. The XIIth Legion soldiers, cruel and heartless as their master, did not find themselves as lucky as the misguided men of the VIIth she had saved at Carteneau. She could not bear to attack unless her hand was forced…yet Kan-E could pick up the whispers on the wind, the tumult of faraway elementals who knew why it was she fought.

 _“Matron forgive me my transgressions,”_ thought Kan-E each time a soldier fell by her hand, _“…I pray they find peace.”_ She would regret each and every wave of white magic she had cast, but she would not back down if this battle would bring peace to the Twelveswood…and to Eorzea. With the outer city secure, she and her allies had but to wait for the signal from the Warrior of Light.

Kan-E’s sense of security was soon broken, however. Explosions, not so far away from her post, shook the ground below her, the stench of fresh smoke and blood staining the once clearing air.

As if on cue, an archer in her unit reached for his ringing linkpearl, hands trembling. The voice on the pearl was not as panicked as one would imagine after such a blast…the Elder Seedseer remained calm, readying herself for anything.

“An ambush, my lady…” the soldier reported, “Casualties are minimal, but the majority of Maelstrom conjurers have already begun their march to the central part of the city to aid the Flames…”

Kan-E tightened her grip on the Claustrum.

“Send as many conjurers as we are able,” she replied, “…What of the Admiral? She was leading that unit, was she not?”

“It seems they’ve been unable to reach her since the explosion…”

In that very moment, something shook the air, not so far away…A strong presence, an unmistakable energy only she could follow. It had to be the Admiral. But she knew not how long it would last. Reluctantly, and hiding any sign of fear, she gave her next orders.

“You must go with the conjurers, all of you,” Kan-E ordered her unit, “I shall go and search for the Admiral.”

“M-my lady?” asked the archer, raising an eyebrow, “With all due respect, we act on behalf of the Keepers of the Entwined Serpent, we cannot permit you to—”

“These are your orders,” she smiled, doing what she could to ease their doubts. Going alone to find the Admiral was not ideal, she was well aware, but it was the only choice she had if she was to reach that energy before it faded from her senses.

“We haven’t any time to lose. You must go to them.”

The other soldiers, conflicted and staring at one another in confusion, took a moment to collect themselves.

“Understood…” the archer looked away, “May the Matron keep you safe, my lady.”

“And you as well,” she nodded. With that simple affirmation, her guard looked back once more before charging towards the outer city. Kan-E sped on her way in the other direction, towards her only lead. Past dilapidated houses and into the more dangerous city center, she followed the presence, growing stronger by the step, until a scream and a gunshot pierced the air not far north of her. 

Thanking the elementals for their providence, Kan-E found Admiral Merlwyb against a wall, muskets still smoking, with a Garlean corpse at her feet. Upon hearing Kan-E’s footsteps, The Admiral looked on her ally with a sense of grateful surprise. 

“Thank the Twelve you are safe,” Kan-E sighed, running up to the Admiral, “Your soldiers believed you to be missing.”

“Garlean bastards interrupted our signal during the blast,” explained Merlwyb, “I’ve not been able to get anything through to—ugh!”

Suddenly clutching her shoulder, the Admiral nearly lost her balance against the wall, her torn jet black sleeve dyed a deep red.

“Admiral, you—”

“Thought he could catch me off guard, this one,” Merlwyb smirked, gazing down at the corpse below her, “It seems he underestimated his quarry.”

Without a word, Kan-E readied the most potent healing spell she could cast. The Admiral looked on her in awe, pain slowly fading from the gash on her arm. 

“…How did you know where to find me?” questioned Merlwyb, “My soldiers, how are they faring?”

“My conjurers are with them,” the Padjal spoke softly, still somewhat focused on her magic, “You need not worry. I—”

Kan-E blinked, sensing something new, a disturbance in the air behind her. Her unease was answered by metal footsteps from behind, the accompanying war cry of a desperate, straggling Garlean.

A sudden, sharp pain ripped into Kan-E’s exposed wrist. She did not cry out in pain, and yet her movements had been so fast that Merlwyb could scarce remember them happening at all.

The blue, healing light of her Cure shifted into a violent, blustering green towards the solider, ripping into him. Violent gusts of wind threw him into a building’s high wall on the other side of the road, and once he had crashed upon the ground headfirst, he did not move again.

“Gods be good…” muttered the Admiral without thinking. She realized that perhaps it was not the wisest thing to say—Kan-E’s bleeding hands began to tremble once the winds had subsided. 

“I…I had not intended for him to…to…Not like that…” The Elder Seedseer’s display of power had been a wonder to watch, yet somewhere inside Merlwyb knew at her core, the Elder Seedseer was yet a fragile young woman, still new to the chaos of the front lines. 

Kan-E shook her head slightly, once again gaining focus on the matter at hand, “My apologies, Admiral, your wound—”

Merlwyb, her wound less painful than before, gently placed a hand on Kan-E’s shoulder, regaining her balance and taking a few calculated steps from the wall. With a cock of her gun, she aimed Death Penalty at the wind-torn corpse, firing only once before returning to Kan-E at the wall.

“He is my responsibility,” the Admiral coolly told her, “You needn’t waste your time.” 

Kan-E watched motionless as the Admiral returned—though she wished to thank her ally, anxiety mixed with admiration, leaving her without words. 

And then a sign—a burst of green light like a shooting star, soaring into the heavens. Dread spread over her like a wave upon the shore, until a few small white lights followed behind their predecessor. 

“…The final battle has begun,” spoke the Padjal, her countenance still shaken by what had occurred before, Merlwyb noticed.

“Then it would be best I return to my soldiers,” the Roegadyn replied, “I would suggest you do the same.” Though her wound had not been fully healed, she walked off without another word.

“…Yes,” Kan-E replied in a voice only she could hear, gazing down upon her bloodied wrist, “I suppose that would be wise.” 

\---------------------------------------------

A bright, crimson sunset shone over the Lochs, sinking steadily into the ocean—the first free sunset Ala Mhigo had seen in twenty years. Those who had liberated the city-state stood at the edges of the Alliance camp and on the walls of the newly-freed Ala Mhigo, letting sparklers and fireworks fly free as the blood-colored sky faded to night. 

“Free at last!” cried a Flame soldier to his comrades, all of them deep in their cups, “Welcome home, my friends, welcome home!” Victory had changed the Alliance, Kan-E had noticed. When she had a spare moment between the countless formalities of liberating a city-state, she returned to her tower, and watched the jubilation unfold. She had not seen joy quite like it before. The celebrating soldiers and adventurers alike had their spirits lifted once they noticed the Elder Seedseer, who smiled upon those who rejoiced below.

There was one particular conversation, however, that she would not forget. Two men garbed in red and black, respectively—a Maelstrom and Flame private who happened to see her. They had quieted their voices so she would not hear, but they had underestimated the senses of a Padjal…or perhaps simply did not know.

“You ‘eard? That horned lass, I saw ‘er fightin’ out there. Throwin’ giant stones and crazy gusts o’ wind and everything!”

“Surely you jest…the Elder Seedseer herself? The Adders would never allow that caged bird to sing, much less have a taste of freedom. I hear she never gets a moment alone, that one…more bodyguards than the Sultana herself.”

“I swear to ya, I saw ‘er out there! Heard the Storm Marshall say she saved the Admiral’s arse out there yesterday!” 

“If you say so, my friend…”

The two men burst into jovial laughter and went on their way, perhaps to find their next keg of ale. Yet Kan-E still remained, clinging to those few, stinging words.

“A caged bird,” she repeated to herself. Since returning to Gridania as Elder Seedeer all those years ago, it was true that she’d scarcely had much time to herself…and the aftermath of the Calamity only amplified that feeling. She could count on both her hands the number of exceptional occasions she was free to walk without a Keeper of the Entwined Serpent or a Twin Adder guard behind her. 

Her hand…though she had healed it and cared for her wound as best she could, a bright red scar still remained, stretching to her wrist. She told no one of what had transpired after she had found the Admiral, only that she had healed Merlwyb, who safely returned to the Maelstrom unit as the Warrior of Light’s final battle unfolded. She kept her battle scar hidden as best she could, hoping her guards would not notice or question it. If this was how her hand looked with proper healing, she worried for the Admiral, who she hadn’t the time to fully care for.

Kan-E eyed the Maelstrom camp, not so far from her own. Her thoughts again wandered to the Admiral, the image of her cold silver eyes unmoved by the chaos of battle, the strength of her countenance despite her wound—was that simply thanks to the so-called freedom Kan-E lacked as “a caged bird”?

Footsteps from behind brought the Padjal back into reality, turning to find one of her commanders, parchment in hand.

“Elder Seedseer,” the Elezen woman saluted her, “A message is come from the Admiral.”

For a moment, Kan-E held her breath. What more business could the Admiral possibly have with her?

“She requests you join her for evening tea, my lady.”

“…I see,” the Padjal replied, nearly motionless.

“What would you have me tell her?”

“Tell her,” she began, “Tell her I shall be joining her anon.”

There was only one way to find out. 

\---------------------------------------------

Kan-E took a breath.

Before her stood an ornate, Ala Mhigan-style tent, lined on its sides with Maelstrom flags. Though the pomp of the celebrations continued on all sides of Porta Praetoria, the atmosphere strangely grew more serene as she neared the Admiral’s base of operations. It certainly did not carry the more…civilized atmosphere of Kan-E’s camp, but it would do for a simple cup of tea and conversation. 

“So you’ve arrived,” came a voice from the tent; Merlwyb lifted its cloth door to reveal herself, “It is not the Stateroom, I’m afraid, but you are well come nonetheless.”

Kan-E expressed her thanks, following the Admiral into the tent—it was brightly lit, and at its edge stood a small tea table with two tall, Ala Mhigan-made chairs. An ornate teapot, along with a tray of various sweets at the table’s center, had already been set for them. The two sat down with few words; Kan-E was loath to admit she hadn’t much to say…on most occasions, the General or the Sultana would be with them, and talk would often shift to politics, government, topics Kan-E was comfortable with. Merlwyb, perhaps realizing this, broke the silence herself.

“While I would vastly prefer to have a glass of Wineport’s finest at my side,” she began as they sat down, “I imagined you would be more partial to Gridanian chamomile.”

“That I would,” Kan-E smiled, looking down at her teacup, “You have my thanks.” Merlwyb nodded in return, her features seemingly softer, more welcoming than they had been on the battlefield, of course. 

“I am surprised you are not celebrating with the rest,” the Padjal wondered aloud as she poured her tea.

“Your concern is appreciated,” Merlwyb smirked, “You need not worry. The Maelstrom had their fair share last night, so to speak. Drank all our good ale, too, the curs…As I understand, a good number of them were headed to the Flames’ camp tonight to take what they could of the General’s.”

“I was wondering why it had been so quiet when I arrived,” the Elder Seedseer let out a small laugh without thinking.

“Certainly not what you had pictured, I imagine…Then again, I doubt you had pictured that we would be chatting over tea this evening, either.”

Kan-E knew not how to respond—Merlwyb continued in her stead, her tone more serious than before.

“Your aid in the city saved my unit from an ambush while I was separated from them,” the Admiral explained, “For that, I owe you a debt of gratitude…and an apology.”

“…An apology, Admiral?” Kan-E asked, intrigued, “Full glad were we to be able to give you the aid you required. You need not owe us any debt.”

Merlwyb’s gaze shifted to the side in a show of rare embarrassment.

“Your unit deserves much praise…as do you, Kan-E. Yours was the last face I expected to see on the battlefield, but it was a welcome one.”

“The other soldiers,” Kan-E began, “They call me a caged bird. I would not expect them to understand my position… I choose not to fight unless I must. But to be on the front lines alone, to experience the fear and emotion you and the General encountered so often in your past...I felt liberated…I understood. However, the weight of lives lost by my own violence is something I still cannot bear. I realized this, and yet--”

“Kan-E,” the Admiral stopped her, reaching out to her ally, “Show me your hand.”

The Padjal did as she was told, lifting part of her sleeve to reveal the remains of her wound from the previous day. She placed her delicate hand in the Admiral’s, the latter looking carefully upon it.

In those short moments, neither one spoke. The gentleness with which Merlwyb took her hand and looked upon her scar both surprised and fascinated the Padjal; though she had once doubted the Admiral’s sense of compassion, it was in those seconds that she glimpsed it for the first time, a small rush of heat to her cheeks as she thought how strange it all was…how lovely she was.

“Your first, then?” spoke the Admiral, her voice quieter than before as she let go of Kan-E’s hand. 

Still somewhat enchanted by the moment before, Kan-E blinked and looked back at her hand for a moment, with an innocent little nod.

“I must apologize, as well,” Kan-E spoke up, “I never finished healing yours.”

“It will heal itself in time,” replied Merlwyb, “Thanks mostly to you, I should say. I had heard rumors of your gift, but never had I witnessed it before…You must tell me, Kan-E, where has the sheepish little horned lass from five years ago gone? First you propose we go to war with the Black Wolf, and now you sit here with that scar on your hand from the front lines of Ala Mhigo.”

“She yet remains, I’m afraid,” Kan-E turned her gaze back down to her tea, “But she was inspired. By those who fought and died in her name…by those who valued freedom more than all else, by…”

The Elder Seedseer trailed off for a moment, but regained her confidence as she chose her next words.

“…By you, Admiral.”

The Admiral answered with a jovial laugh. “I beg your pardon?” 

“When I had been consumed by fear in the city, you fired at that Garlean so that I would not have to bear the weight of his death alone. I had not the time to thank you for that, but I am grateful all the same.”

“…I underestimated you,” Merlwyb admitted, “Since the beginning of this alliance, I did. I have seen you grow in these five years as a leader. You are not the girl I begrudgingly pledged my allegiance to five years ago…you are our commander. Though I am aware that Gridanians have no love for war, should you ever choose to fight with us again, know that you will have my full support.”

Kan-E stared in awe…never did she think she would find a friend in Merlwyb, yet here they were, their trust in each other grown.

“No two scars are ever the same. It may fade from the skin, but not from our memory,” Merlwyb continued, looking to her ally, “…So my father used to say. I suppose we’ve something in common, now, have we not?”

“…I suppose we do,” grinned Kan-E, heartened by the Admiral’s words.

“Welcome to the battlefield, Kan-E,” a sincere smile crossed the Roegadyn’s lips, “I look forward to seeing you there again.”

“I shall support you however I can,” the Elder Seedseer returned the gesture, her emerald eyes reflecting something Merlwyb had not seen from her before.

\---------------------------------------------

Kan-E had left just before sunrise—a guard asking for her whereabouts implored that she get her rest before the trek back to Gridania the next day. The Admiral saw her off and returned to her tent. Before Merlwyb could take a leftover cake from the half-emptied tray, Slafyrsyn entered the tent, fully aware of what had transpired.

“Tea and cakes, was it?” asked the Marshall, “How did it go?”

“Have a message sent to Gridania tomorrow,” Merlwyb gave him a half-smirk, “Tell them the Elder Seedseer is welcome to stay in Limsa Lominsa anytime she pleases. I will watch over her myself—She need not bring guards.” 

“Understood,” nodded Slafyrsyn as he took his leave, “I take it went well, then!”

“That it did,” Merlwyb nodded, wishing the Marshall a pleasant evening as he left.

Alone, she sat back at the tea table, folding her arms and turning her gaze to the hand that had held the Elder Seedseer’s, “Aye…Perhaps too well.”


End file.
